Dragon and Tiger Clash (6)
No matter the country, agriculture investments and farm management rank among the top interests of criminal organizations. Take, for example, the drug cartels based in Michoacán, Mexico. By dominating avocado farms, they rake in profits as high and stable as their drug trade during harvest season. No wonder avocados are called "green gold," with jokes circulating that every guacamole sold loads Mexican cartels' magazines with fresh bullets.
The Italian mafias, who control agriculture from production to distribution on the peninsula, generate annual sales equivalent to about 1% of Italy's GDP from this alone. In Korean won, that's easily over 20 trillion. Eastern European mafias of a similar stripe are no different, fattening their coffers through massive farm operations. South America and Africa go without saying, and Southeast Asia's island regions are riddled with farms tied to criminal syndicates.
So why agriculture? Look at rural Korea: it's easy to find employers who bring in foreign laborers, work them to the bone without even minimum wage, and sometimes pay in gift certificates instead of cash. This is organized crime by farmers who dodge taxes by pushing workers to "cash in" those vouchers illegally. These vicious village elders lack even the self-awareness of a criminal like me—they don't realize they're committing organized crimes.
They take it for granted that the government bails them out during famines and sends soldiers for labor shortages. These "innocent" criminals hide in the shadows of more upright, sensible farmers, perpetuating stable criminal enterprises under the banner of the weak. From an outsider's view, their stability is almost enviable. It's classic local collusion in a small community, so even the police shrug it off with "That's just how things are done here."
In any case, large-scale crime syndicates like the mafias elevate this labor exploitation to a more systematic and efficient level. Italy? Flooded with refugees from the Middle East. Central and South America? Just threaten with guns, seize farms, and conscript people. Africa? Borrow the power of corrupt governments and warlords to openly enslave workers. Backward island regions in Southeast Asia? Lawless zones with zero policing. Papua New Guinea is a magical apocalypse in itself.
With environments tailor-made for criminal muscle everywhere, agriculture doesn't rile governments like drugs do. It offers gambling-level profits with policy-backed stability, plus synergies with existing human trafficking ops. How could underworld entrepreneurs ignore it? Falsifying origins for price inflation is just icing on the cake.
"If crime groups control some refugees, even law enforcement doesn't entirely hate it." Europe's been suffering from Muslim migrants lately, so it's a case of fighting poison with poison. Mafia brutality effectively reins in the rage-blind zealots hiding among them. Police just look the other way.
But Africa... My advice to Yeouido Kim to hold back on African investments stemmed not just from political instability, but personal distaste as well. Frankly, it's no appealing prospect, given the company you'd keep.
I mulled over the past report. "When we snagged land development rights in Sudan, we competed with a consortium backed by the Rural Development Administration, right?"
Kim Jae-hwan nodded on screen after a slight delay. "Yes. Mitsubishi-Sumitomo consortium, Saudi sovereign fund, and some Chinese outfit—Wengfu or Hanfu—bid too, but the second-highest was the Korean consortium funded by KRC and the National Pension Service."
KRC was the Korea Rural Community Corporation. His report only listed our acquisition price; the others' bids were omitted, piquing my curiosity. "How much did they offer?"
Kim Jae-hwan hesitated oddly until Suyeon tapped the mic again, then sighed in resignation. "......I think it was 35,000 dollars."
"For 600,000 hectares?"
"Yes."
35,000 dollars was under 40 million won. To outsiders, it might seem why national agencies would back such a pittance, but it was just one deal among countless. To compete for hundreds of millions of hectares across Africa, bulking up was key. It strengthened negotiating power with governments and local bigwigs beforehand. And bribes to insiders dwarfed the official price. The visible amount was mere tip of the iceberg, ignoring unquantifiable diplomatic clout.
Compared to these consortia, Kim Jae-hwan's pure-cash 1.47 million dollars across five countries was small fry.
"And we paid 400,000 dollars? Over ten times the runner-up?"
"Well, we jumped in late, so fewer bribes to bureaucrats and chiefs, weaker intel networks... Call it the combined 'real' cost of bribes and land—you won't lose as much as it seems. Had to go this high to tempt local dealers to screw over pre-arranged rivals..."
His mumbling grew more dejected; he thought I was scolding him. I waved it off. "No, no. Actually, that's good."
"Pardon?"
Kim Jae-hwan blinked blankly. "Good how?"
"Never mind. Not your concern."
"Yes, sir......"
Watching me cautiously through the screen, he brightened once realizing I wasn't upset. '400,000 dollars? Pocket change for my pride.'
600,000 hectares—ten times Seoul's area—for 400,000 dollars (about 430 million won)? That's not cheap; it's traitorous fire-sale territory. Without me, the official treasury take would've been a tenth of that, so more bidders like me meant slightly better deals for locals.
Such scams are daily in Africa. To corrupt officials and local bosses, state or tribal commons are "finders keepers" land. Crush resident opposition with force, sideline rivals politically, fake paperwork, gun down threats if needed, then list it internationally. They claim it creates jobs via investment. In reality, brokers commission locals first: "Client wants this land—set the table. Price? Effort fee separate. We're pros. Spend as you like; we're uninvolved."
Local dealers—corrupt bureaucrats, bosses, warlord tribes—are international capital's thug enforcers. Post-deal, they monopolize management labor, rifles in hand, governments and foreigners on their backs. Endless dark entanglements.
This land grab is 21st-century imperialism's face, evolved from 20th: costs and blame subcontracted, ownership swapped for 50-100 year development rights. Governments front pension funds or firms, leaving nominal ownership local to dodge stats. Korea joining these imperialists is intriguingly apt.
'Not just joining.' After Daewoo's Madagascar fiasco sparked revolution, Korea refined tactics, aping advanced oil states and the West. Now Korea rivals China, Japan, Arab oil nations, and imperial pioneers in global land grabs. China's dominance overshadows, but that's no brag.
Kim Jae-hwan banked on Korean diplomacy for troubled lands, backed by national food security policy.
"Kim Jae-hwan."
"Yes, Chairman."
"Domestic funds are yours to manage; you'll investigate wisely. Still, I advise again: avoid new third-world land deals, including Africa. No guarantee South Sudan won't repeat."
"The foreigner expulsion and asset seizures?"
"Yes."
"They regret it now. Who'd pull that stunt again?"
"If people were purely rational, you'd never go bankrupt or fail six suicide attempts before joining me. Right?"
Suyeon, silent till then, corrected: "Seven times."
A faint smile rippled among the execs on the video call.
Foreign land grabs fuel mob rage and fear, spurring destructive collective action. Regimes and chiefs, needing support, repeat follies despite losses.
"Chairman, you're too harsh. Even I have pride—you drag it out like that......" Kim Jae-hwan grumbled, nodding vigorously. "I'll decide after due diligence, but your concern makes me extra cautious. Very cautious, best effort. Like stable Tanzania—"
His rambling continued, never quite promising abstinence. Cowardly by nature, yet fiercely proud of his skills, he hated interference—even from me, the boss.
But discard the prickly, and talent grows scarce. Like most failing to marry due to impossible spouse ideals. If skilled and loyal, overlook the rest.
Ponder where jagged pegs fit best. Chipping edges risks dulling ability and drive—I've learned that painfully.
Once his drone half-willed, half-forced to a halt, I added: "Reinvest freely in secured land. Even sucker rates—it's Africa, third world. High odds of profit. Even upheavals won't boot you outright; they'll angle for new patrons."
"Chairman, my expertise is investment, not charity..."
"Nor mine. Consider it. I'll spin off a team with budget if needed; just note my stance."
"Understood."
A chill emanated from beside me. Kim Jae-hwan, snapping replies, shrank under her sharp gaze—astutely tracing it across screens.